


Bittersweet Symphony

by Kaiyou



Series: The Sweetest Thing (Just Desserts Verse) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Brief suicidal ideation, Complicated Relationships, Crossdressing, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Polyamory, cheating (kind of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: Bits and pieces from the beginning of BokuAkaKuroKen's relationship in Just Desserts verse. Will probably be posted out of order until I write the other bits. Posted on Tumblr too ^_^ ... these are more if you want to know the background. Tagging the subships bc of the complex way they end up getting together.





	1. Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KUROKEN + EVER WONDER IF THE WORLD WOULD BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU… ? FOR THE WRITING PROMPT
> 
> This is probably the earliest piece i'll write for them. It's set in Kenma and Akaashi's third year of hs.

“Kenma!” Kuroo yelled, sprinting down the hill to the embankment where he saw the huddled form. For a moment, Kuroo was worried the worst had happened - he’d been jumped or worse, he’d frozen to death in the hours they’d been looking for him, he didn’t know. Kenma responded to his voice, though, shivering inside his thin white t-shirt.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, kneeling down and reaching out to pull him close. He frowned when Kenma shrank away from him, pulling back and stripping off his jacket before trying to get a look at Kenma’s face. Was he hurt? Had his father -

Fucking bastard -

“We’ve been looking for you for hours, Kenma,” he murmured, tugging his jacket around the frozen boy. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone? We’ve been worried sick!”

Kenma shrugged, showing Kuroo the cracked screen of his phone. “Couldn’t answer,” he mumbled. His fingertips were covered with tiny slices filled with dried blood.

“Did that -”

“When he threw me out,” Kenma replied, shrugging again.

Kuroo wanted to yell or scream. Instead, he just texted Bokuto and his mom, letting him know where they were.

“Damnit, Kenma,” Kuroo said, pulling him close in a hug, “Why didn’t you go to my house? My mom would’ve -”

“Didn’t want to get you involved. Dad already thinks - well. It’s dumb. Stupid. Dumb.”

“Fuck him,” Kuroo said, never hating anyone more in his life. He wondered how long it’d been going on, what he’d missed by being absent these past few months at school. Kenma’s parents had always been borderline neglectful, but he’d never complained. This, though, this -

“Didn’t know where to go,” Kenma mumbled. “Couldn’t get Akaashi involved, I just hope his parents don’t do the same thing to him. Hope my dad doesn’t find their phone number like he threatened. Didn’t want to bother any of the guys on the team or Nekomata. I wonder if he’ll kick me off the team when he finds out.”

“Don’t be idiotic Kenma, he would never -”

“Wonder if the guys would want him too. Wonder what they’ll think of me being in the locker room.”

“Kenma, stop it please, this isn’t your fault, please -”

“But it is, Kuro. Of course it is. I seduced him, did you know? It’s a wonder you can even stand to touch me.”

I love you, Kuroo wanted to say. I love you and I would hold you for always and protect you from your asshole of a dad and from anyone who would ever even think about hurting you. The words got clogged in his throat, though, just like they always had. So instead, he just hugged Kenma close, wishing that his feelings could be transferred through osmosis.

“Hey Kuro,” Kenma said, voice his usual detached tone that felt so wrong right now, “Do you ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?”

That chilled Kuroo to the core and he tightened his arms, moving so that he could grab Kenma’s face and force him to look up at him. “Don’t ever fucking think that,” he said, watching as the dullness in Kenma’s eyes was replaced by shock. “My world would not exist without you, Kenma. Never, ever forget that.”

Kenma’s mouth fell open. “Kuro,” he whispered, tears finally breaking through the mask. Then he was wrapping his arms around Kuroo like he hadn’t done in years, clinging and sobbing and Kuroo just held him, angry with the world, thankful beyond measure when Bokuto and his mother finally pulled up and started running down the hill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BOKUROO - “YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY.”
> 
> Still in Kenma's 3rd year of high school, BoKuro with background BoKen.

“Come on, Kuroo, just a few more steps,” Bokuto urged, laughing under his breath. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk before. It’s pretty funny.”

Kuroo just groaned. He didn’t feel funny. He didn’t want to feel at all. Instead, he just felt nauseous, and dizzy, and the initial pricks of pain that had initiated his plan to get rip-roaring drunk had just blossomed into a deep, searing ache. 

At least he hadn’t been spiteful. At least Bokuto thought he was a funny drunk and not a mean, cruel drunk. He’d laughed with Bokuto’s sisters, teased the younger until she was a laughing giggling mess. He’d allowed himself to cuddle with Kenma, annoyed him until he’d pushed Kuroo’s face away with a small smile and huddled back into his game. 

It helped to see Kenma smiling again. It hurt, in some stupid and utterly unreasonable way, that he wasn’t the one who’d healed him.

Sighing, he let his head loll against Bokuto’s shoulder. He was jealous. It was stupid. He’d wondered why Bokuto was spending so much time in the kitchen lately. Stupid him, he’d just been glad his best friend had learned ten different ways to cook mackerel as well as buffing up on his desserts. But seeing the smile on Kenma’s face when Bokuto placed the fresh slice of apple pie in front of him - well. 

That smile didn’t need an explanation.

And Kenma was home here, home amongst this loud and crazy family in a way that he’d never been home with his parents. Kuroo’s heart hurt to see the lack of tension in his best friend’s shoulders, the way he helped Bokuto’s nephew color, the way he encouraged him to draw unicorns and princesses if he wanted. 

Bokuto though - Bokuto was so alive here. Strong, and shining, and confident in a way that didn’t show the fragile pitfalls he was so prone to elsewhere. It was everything Kuroo wished he could give to Bokuto. Showcased every reason he loved him, reminded him of all the times he’d carefully pushed Bokuto’s love away by saying they were just friends.

“I’m not drunk,” Kuroo said, carefully to enunciate every word even as his arms were wrapped around Bokuto’s neck. 

“Right, sure,” Bokuto said, laughing again as he pushed Kuroo back against the bed. “You just drank three bottles of sake for the hell of it. I know you. Normally we just finish two even when we’re drinking together.”

“Yeah well normally,” Kuroo mumbled, frowning as he felt Bokuto’s fingers tugging his shirt up and over his head, “we have practice the next day. Plus, let me remind you, you have trouble getting it up if we drink much more than that.”

“What?!” squawked Bokuto. “I’ve never had trouble getting it up! Well at least, not for you.”

There was a lewd wink at the end of that sentence that just made Kuroo’s heart clinch again. He wondered if it was a betrayal to want this so much. He loved them both, didn’t want to get in the way of something wonderful happening between them. He wanted this too much, wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Bokuto even to do nothing more than touch, reassure himself, cherish this man with his body even if he hadn’t been able to admit his emotions with words.

He felt that it was almost ironic that he’d first held back on sharing how he felt because of his emotions for Kenma. Friends with benefits seemed like such a safer option, in the beginning. He hadn’t counted on his heart. Hadn’t thought it was possible to be in love with two people at once. Idiot, idiot, idiot. He’d held off on saying anything to either of them and now it looked like they were falling in love with each other.

“You don’t have to stay,” he mumbled, trying to force himself to turn away. “Kenma’s downstairs, you should probably go hang out with him. You get to see me every day, after all - him only on holidays like this.”

“Eh?” Bokuto asked, looking puzzled for a moment as he studied Kuroo’s face. “Kurbro? Are you crying?”

Kuroo flinched as Bokuto reached out, thumb running over his cheek, collecting evidence Kuroo wanted to hide from the world.

Turning over he curled up around a pillow. “No,” he hiccuped, “I’m just drunk is all, you know alcohol is a depressant, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Hey hey hey,” Bokuto said, sliding in behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist before pulling him close. “You’re full of shit is what you are, bro.” 

Kuroo’s laugh broke through his tears and he slid a hand to intertwine his fingers with Bokuto’s, wanting this hand, wanting this man curled up around him. “Why are you such a cool son of a gun?” he asked.

“Mmm, just the way of the world, I guess,” Bokuto answered, nuzzling the back of Kuroo’s neck. “Just like the reality that when you wake up tomorrow your hair will have found a new way to defy gravity.”

Another laugh bubbled up, a laugh with edges that scraped against the ragged edges of a broken heart. 

“Hey,” Bokuto murmured, pulling him closer as a new round of sobs shook Kuroo’s body. “Sorry, I wasn’t insulting your hair. It was a compliment, I promise. Look, I could’ve rhymed that and I didn’t so you know I’m serious, right?”

He should’ve laughed at that too but it all just hurt too much. He hated this. Hated being so weak. Hated that Bokuto felt like he needed to take care of him. Hated his jealousy.

“Hey, hey,” Bokuto said, voice losing the joking edge. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Kuroo asked.

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto repeated. “Look, there isn’t anything between us, I swear. I know how you feel about him. I promise I’m not trying -”

The edge of panic that was creeping in was more than Kuroo could bear. It was compounded by the fact that Kuroo had been so opaque with his feelings that Bokuto had no clue who he was really crying for. Not that Kuroo was really sure at this point himself but - 

He knew he loved Bokuto. Knew he loved him as much as he loved Kenma, even if both of those loves felt different. And even if love was sometimes a selfish thing, he knew that at its core it was about so much more than that. 

He wanted what was best for both of them, even if that didn’t involve him as anything more than a friend.

“Bokuto,” he murmured. “Bokuto, dude, no.”

“What?”

“Look - he’s so fucking happy right now,” Kuroo said. 

“He’s happy to see you, bro -”

“Nah, you know I’m just like a brother to him. But you - you’re - the way he looks at you - the way he glows when he’s with your family - do you even know?”

“And the way you look,” Kuroo continued. “You just shine, man. And it’s like you don’t even have to guess at the way he feels about you. You’re happier here than I’ve ever seen you.”

Bokuto fell silent. To Kuroo, that was all the proof he needed that he was right.

“You should go down and spend time with him,” he said. “I’ll be fine, just sleep this off. Make sure I get some orange juice in the morning.”

He started to loosen his grip on Bokuto’s hand but the other man only curled their fingers more tightly together.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes, Kuroo,” Bokuto said, pressing his forehead to the back of Kuroo’s neck.

It was true, and he knew it was true. 

And tonight, this was easier just to let happen. 

It was temporary. He knew, he’d seen the writing on the wall. They’d be happy together. He’d smile, and congratulate them, and continue to reassure them if doubts about his feelings ever came up. He’d be their best friend. Even if it hurt, if it meant he got to see his two most important people happy, that was all that mattered.

For tonight, he’d let himself be weak. Tonight, he’d sink into the ever-present warmth of the man behind him, let himself be held and comforted and maybe even kissed.

But tomorrow, he’d let them fall in love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FOR THE WRITING PROMPT- "DON'T TRUST ME." PAIRING- KUROO AND AKAASHI - requested by BugBearz
> 
> This is actually near the end of their college years.

It was raining when Akaashi rushed out of the dance studio. Of course it was raining. At least if he burst into tears this time the rain would provide camouflage. Not that he intended Kuroo to catch up.

Not that Kuroo would chase after him anyway.

He ran down the sidewalk, unfamiliar shoes splashing through puddles that reflected the garish neon lights from shops in the district. Around the corner, he should be safe. There was a bus stop. Panting, he ducked inside, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

In the silence, he heard footsteps slow and steady coming toward the shelter. Looking up Akaashi remembered for the first time exactly what type of neighborhood this was. He felt scattered, scrambling in the pockets of his jacket to make sure he had at least something to protect himself with - but it was only Kuroo.

“Akaashi-san,” Kuroo murmured, eyes dark as night, messy hair drooping from the water. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Lifting his head Akaashi tried to regain some semblance of dignity. “It’s fine, Kuroo-san,” he said, looking over his shoulder rather than meet the other man’s intense stare. 

Kuroo just shook his head and stepped closer, hands outstretched in a placating manner. “It’s not,” he murmured. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t misunderstand anything. I was surprised to see you, that’s all. I think you look - well, beautiful.”

The word broke something in Akaashi he’d been trying to hold captive for years. It was funny. Kenma had said it. Bokuto had said it. But neither of them had seen him like this. No one was supposed to see him like this, no one who knew him, well - no one but Semi. Akaashi slid hands down to the soft fabric flowing over his legs, fingers fisting in the sequined silk. “I - I’m sure you think it’s most -”

“I think,” Kuroo murmured, stepping even closer and reaching out a hand to brush rainwater-drenched curls away from Akaashi’s face, “that it looks perfect.”

Akaashi looked up into his eyes and felt ripped open and raw, like his most private soul was being laid bare to this man. This man who knew so many of the awful things he’d done, and who loved the men he’d done them too. Kuroo’s eyes held nothing but compassion and truth. 

When he looked down, Akaashi noted that his hands were clutching the fabric of Kuroo’s suit jacket. “I can’t - I’m not beautiful, or perfect, you know that,” he said, laugh choked off with a sob.

“Shh, shh,” Kuroo said, pulling him close and stroking the back of his head. “You’re loved. You’re incredible, we all think so, no matter what you think about yourself. You looked amazing out there on the dance floor before you saw me.”

That hurt, because Akaashi had felt amazing. It had been reckless to come out here at night, to the small studio that taught ballroom dancing. Even more reckless to wear the shoes and dress Semi had lent him, to fix his face and hair and try to pass as the person he’d always wanted to be. But no one had questioned him. And when he’d gone out on the dance floor and followed his partner, letting himself be spun around in the elegant steps - he’d felt free.

But it was all an illusion. This image - it wasn’t him. The truth of who he was -

“I can’t,” Akaashi mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “You can’t get so close. Don’t - don’t trust me. I’ll just hurt you - all I do -”

“’Kaashi, ‘kaashi,” Kuroo murmured, gently pulling back and looking down at him. “I trust you. You’re one of the most incredible men I know. Besides, it looks like you don’t want to let me go.”

It was true. He’d spent so much time running, and hiding, and locking away his shame. Kuroo was warm, and gentle, and looked incredible in the yellow streetlight. Akaashi wanted to kiss him, but he’d gotten in trouble like that already, and he still didn’t know the rules.

He still wasn’t ready. He wanted too much, and he didn’t deserve to have any of it.

But this, the comfort Kuroo offered, he was selfish enough to take. So he just leaned forward and rested his head against Kuroo’s shoulder, giving into the sobs that shook his frame while Kuroo hummed softly and held him close.


End file.
